Allure of Deceit (26 page)

Thara wasn't used to the noise and speed, and at last took his hand. As they walked quickly, she asked how long it would take to reach the city. “Not long at all if we can catch a ride,” he said. “But we should walk until we find a place where the vehicles pull off.”

They were about a hundred kilometers away from Kandahar. She had no idea about the length of a kilometer, and that troubled her.

“How do you know such facts?” Thara asked, but he could not answer. He imagined that parents conversed more broadly with sons than with daughters.

She also fretted that someone might recognize the pair and report their whereabouts to his parents in Laashekoh. He tried to explain that Laashekoh was small. Most drivers on the highway had never heard of the village and didn't care, but she was near tears about getting caught. “Tell me we are near Kandahar,” she pleaded.

He did not want to lie to her and stopped. “Are you sure that you want to leave?”

She didn't answer right away, then nodded. When she did speak, her voice was firm. “I cannot go back.”

As she walked more swiftly, Thara explained that her biggest fear was getting caught. “But it's wonderful to think of living in a place where others do not know my family and I'd never have to hear another word of judgment.”

“Then we must move along, one step at a time,” he said.

With their sling packs secure, they walked for hours. Fast-changing clouds in shades of copper, rose, lavender, and then pure fiery gold stretched across the horizon, the colors beckoning them. The sun rose directly over where the highway met the sky, and the beauty gave Saddiq confidence.

Daylight hours were dangerous. Others could see them. Saddiq shifted direction away from the road and moved toward uneven terrain, just out of sight of the highway. The landscape was flat, dry, nothing like the fields and woods sustained by the river near Laashekoh. Rocks and lumpy sand reduced their pace and failed to provide adequate cover.

They could not get caught. Saddiq dared not bring up the possibility of gangs wandering along the highway, looking to rob him and do worse to her. He urged her to practice keeping a constant eye out for good cover in the event that they spotted someone and had to hide swiftly.

As the morning light exploded, Thara let go of his hand and fell behind. He paused so that she could catch up, but she was embarrassed, shaking her head and assuring him that she would follow. She didn't want to be seen with him.

Saddiq regretted not having brought along a rifle. But a missing weapon would have alerted his father to an unusual and lengthy absence. Saddiq shook his head, trying not to think about his family, not until he had the infant in hand.

Once the sun was high, the highway bustled with activity, an unending string of cars and trucks moving and passing in spurts with honking horns and smelly exhaust. Saddiq settled Thara behind a sand mound and told her to rest. Tears mixed with dust as she worried about him leaving her behind.

“You are tired,” he scolded, explaining that he had to check the people gathered along the roadside. He didn't want to worry her, but she had to be prepared. “Remember, we could get separated anytime.” Saddiq drilled her on what to do and say if they became separated.

If he did not return as promised? She would walk toward Kandahar during the hours of darkness. If someone asked who she was? One of two brothers. Their names? Esmat and Yar. Destination? Their father's home in Kandahar. And what did the father do? A stoneworker who helped construct homes.

“Good,” he said gruffly. “Do not talk much, because you sound like a girl. Keep your answers short. Direct. And do not be afraid. I won't leave you. But we must both be prepared if that happens.”

Before walking toward the highway, he studied the mound and the nearby area. The landscape was so barren compared to that surrounding Laashekoh. Not much cover, but the best they could do. Saddiq urged Thara to rub more dirt on her face and hands and to lay low. He left his pack next to her and stripped away the clothing on the upper part of his body to reveal a folded cloth belt tied tight around his upper chest. Thara covered her eyes. He dressed, removed a few coins from the homemade belt, and directed Thara to strap it underneath her clothing.

“I have money, too.” She reached deep into the layers of her clothes and extracted a thick pile of bills, both Afghan and foreign currency.

“How did you get this?” he asked, amazed.

“Leila hid her money and told me before she left.” Saddiq shook his head, displeased about relying on money from Leila, which was earned by lying to children and sending them off to jobs that did not pay in Pakistan. But Thara was adamant. There was no point in throwing currency away, and someday she would help her younger sisters.

He doubted whether such money could ever be used for good. “Better you carry it all. If we're stopped, robbers will assume I'm carrying the money.” Then he suggested that she sleep while he observed the traffic and stopped vehicles. He could be away for a while.

She asked how long she should wait for him, and he told her until sunrise the next day. “So long!” she protested.

He ignored the comment. “Do not approach the road or look for me. I will catch up with you.” Then Saddiq took off running, climbing another crest and dropping down in the sand so that he could crawl toward the highway without being seen.

Two rickety trucks pulled to the side of the road, engines running as the drivers waited in the sandy clearing. One man arranged crates of apples, grapes, and nuts to face the oncoming traffic. The other truck had a large barrel attached to the back and a scrawled sign offering water for sale.

The two men were setting up shop for the day.

Saddiq decided that the men were not dangerous. A few vehicles pulled over, and the younger man moved closer to the back of the truck where a rifle waited, ready to ward off gangs, military patrols demanding payments, or other trouble. The two men were nervous, and Saddiq waited for a lull in customers and for both men to move far enough away from the rifle.

Saddiq stood and called out, “Salaam alaikum.” The men turned in alarm, and one started for the truck.

It was a new experience for Saddiq to be feared by grown men. Lifting his hands and showing a coin, he asked to purchase fruit. The two men looked at each other and demanded the boy lift the layers of clothing. “Prove you have no explosives!” one shouted.

Saddiq complied, then slowly approached to place the coin in the man's hand. The man handed over a fresh apple, and Saddiq couldn't help himself. He took huge bites, as if he had not eaten such fruit in a year or more. The memories of home were overwhelming.

The men asked his name, and without thinking, he replied, “Saddiq.” The men asked why he was alone, and he stuttered a foolish explanation about walking and wanting to see the road. They scolded him, and he lowered his head, mortified that he had made Thara practice her responses so much without doing the same himself. The men introduced themselves and said they were from Kandahar. Saddiq asked if he could help them in some way.

The two men whispered, and then the younger one spoke up: “We would like to sell all the produce and leave by midday.”

The older man waved his finger at Saddiq. “Do not think that you can set us up for a robbery. We're well armed.” He handed over a crate with clumps of large grapes. “Hold the fruit up high,” he ordered. “Let's see if you can get the drivers to stop and buy.” His friend nodded.

Saddiq worked without break, and the two men focused on transactions with customers. Another vendor tried to park his truck in the area, but the younger man waved his rifle and chased the driver off.

The fruit sold quickly and the water, too. The two men were anxious to leave. Saddiq, trying to be helpful, had already loaded most of the empty crates on the truck, and the older man handed over a few coins to Saddiq.

The boy quickly thanked the man, and asked if he could instead ride with them to Kandahar in the back of their truck. The two men exchanged a glance and shrugged.

Handing the coins back, Saddiq asked if they would wait while he ran and found his brother. “A younger brother,” he explained, offering a complicated tale how the two of them had walked along the highway to visit an uncle and would be in trouble for wandering so far from home, how his little brother was tired and resting nearby.

The older man did not respond. The younger one shrugged again and told him to hurry. Saddiq raced up the hill, over the crest, and shook Thara awake. “Hurry!” he shouted, grabbing both packs. “We have a ride! And you absolutely must pretend you are a boy and we are from Kandahar and we were visiting an uncle!” She sat up in alarm and Saddiq asked about the belt. She nodded and pointed to her chest. Not waiting, he pounded downhill, waving to let the drivers know that the two brothers were on their way.

The two trucks circled out of the clearing and joined the growling centipede of traffic headed for Kandahar.

Thara joined Saddiq at the crest of the hill, and Saddiq turned away to hide tears of frustration. Two men refused to wait and roared away in their trucks—it was Allah's will.

“We wasted a whole day,” he said bitterly. “And I put us at risk by jumping out and waving to sell grapes.”

She tried to comfort him, insisting that drivers probably took little notice of one boy with two vendors. She focused on their immediate concerns. It was cold, and she returned to the shelter behind the mound of sand, which she had reinforced by digging deeper along the side not hit by the wind. She was motherly. “You need sleep. We must walk tonight.” She emptied their packs, and then stretched out in the new hollow she had created. Despite so much failure, she was kind.

His anger vanished as long as Thara was not upset about missing a ride to Kandahar. “I should keep watch,” he said. “Those men worried about robbers.”

Thara reached for his hand and pulled, urging him to sleep. “No one will see us if we stay away from the road,” she promised. “If we both lie flat under this blanket, we won't be seen.” He wasn't used to planning and strategizing with a girl. As he hesitated, she advised that he had to get used to new routines. Children preferred routines more than their parents did, as she had learned after her mother's arrest. She spoke sadly. “The best parents keep that a secret from their children.”

There were no routines in their travels to Kandahar, he thought, and it was true he was exhausted. They were far enough from the highway. The area was quiet, and any strange noise would waken them. Saddiq stretched out in the mound, as close as possible to Thara without touching, and she arranged the blanket's two halves over both of them.

The old blanket shielded them against the cold wind and biting sand. Saddiq closed his eyes. Despite the shame over losing the ride, he tried to reassure himself. They had food and water and more than enough money to pay for a ride.

Thara suddenly rolled over and faced him. “Why are you so different from the others in Laashekoh? Why don't you blame me for what Leila did?”